Trapped: A SciFi Convict Romance (The Condemned Book 1)

by Alison Aimes

  A shudder ran through her. Whoever was down there had made it to the wreckage. Next to her, Davies slammed her hands over her ears, her body rocking to and fro.

  Bella barely resisted doing the same. The frenzied screeching and cracking of the shuttle being torn to bits was terrifying to hear. Even knowing she and her colleagues were deep in the hidden cave and the storm would cover their tracks didn’t help. She could only pray the shuttle explosion had brought a quick death to the crew she hadn’t been able to save.

  Not even breathing hard, mud man laid a still unconscious Winthrop by her feet.

  Their gazes locked.

  “Thank you.” She meant it, too. Without him, they’d never have made it this far. He’d found a metal bar among the wreckage and twisted it so Davies could use it as a cane. He slung Winthrop over his shoulder more gently than she would have expected and scrambled up the cliffs with ease, his astonishing array of muscles shifting and flexing as he moved.

  “Come.” He held out a calloused palm.

  She swallowed hard, her stare raking from his scowling face to his wide chest and muscular thighs. Payment had already come due.

  “No.” Davies grabbed Bella’s arm, glaring at the mud man. “This isn’t right. Take me instead.”

  His scowl deepened.

  “It’s okay.” Bella hurriedly slid her hand into his. Davies’ offer was unbelievably brave, but Bella would never allow it. Her colleague was Council—and injured. She’d never survive this. Plus, the idea of a deal had been Bella’s from the start. And she couldn’t regret it. Not when they were all still alive.

  His skin was rough—and surprisingly warm.

  A shiver slid down her spine. So much so that it took her a second to realize he’d gone perfectly still. His gaze locked on their intertwined palms. Something that looked a lot like wonder etched in the hard planes of his face.

  Her gaze skittered to Davies’. Her colleague looked equally confused.

  It hit Bella then. Human contact. He was reacting to the sensation of touch. Cherishing something as simple as the heat of her palm against his.

  A wave of sympathy rippled through her. This man might be a criminal, but he was also a living being. One who had clearly been alone for a very long time.

  On instinct, she interlaced her fingers with his, pressing their hands closer.

  He shuddered, his eyes sinking shut, his face tilting upward, the way a person might delight in the sun on his face after a hard, dark winter. Her chest went tight.

  After a lifetime of being just one more mouth to feed, one more body that had to be clothed and housed using Earth’s ever dwindling resources, the feeling of mattering to someone was unfamiliar—and nice.

  “It’s okay.” It was the same words she’d said before, but this time she meant it. “We‘re on your side….F—friends.”

  His eyes flared open, his grip tightening, more possessive now than cherishing. All hints of vulnerability wiped away. “I’m not looking for a friend.”

  He pulled her to stand on shaky legs, his voice a rusty, husky growl, as if he hadn’t used it much. Their bodies so close, the heat of his skin scorched her own.

  Standing inches apart, she felt even smaller, the top of her head barely level with his chest. She tried to hold onto the image of wonder she’d seen on his face, but it wouldn’t stay. Now, he just looked dangerous—and hungry. I’m not looking for a friend. Not a promising beginning.

  Against her will, her gaze dropped to the loincloth that did little to hide the rising evidence of his desire. Her stomach spasmed. Mud man was looking to be as big and thick there as he was everywhere else.

  His hand contracted around hers.

  Her head snapped up.

  “Your deal. Your choice.” He released his hold, a message all its own.

  Her mouth went dry. She understood. He wouldn’t force her. She’d been the one to suggest the trade. It was up to her to choose what happened next.

  Not exactly what she’d expected from a Dragath25 criminal, but the same could be said of most everything he’d done thus far.

  Her gaze flickered to Davies, to Winthrop, to the cave opening where even now those unholy shrieks rattled through the unguarded entrance. But she didn’t stop there. She took in the metal crutch at Davies’ side. Recalled the careful way Winthrop had been laid to the ground. The look on his face when she’d slid her palm against his.

  She cleared her throat. “You fulfill your part of the deal. I’ll do what you want.”

  His nostrils flared. Without another word, he wrapped his hand around her wrist and half dragged, half guided her deeper into the cave.

  She heard Davies’ pained gasp as she tried to stand and shuffle after them—and Bella truly appreciated the woman’s continued willingness to fight for her, but there was nothing Davies could do. Nothing any of them could do.

  He was big and strong enough to have taken her without giving anything in return. That he hadn’t simply used brute force, that he’d asked, that he’d been willing to walk away, said something. But pissing him off couldn’t be wise. One call and those shrieking beasts below would be aware of their presence.

  They might be secure for now, but mud man still held their lives in his hands.

  “Davies, please. I’ll be fine. Look after Dr. Winthrop.” She called the words over her shoulder, her voice surprisingly steady.

  Whatever her colleague said was swallowed up as mud man hustled Bella through the twists and turns of the narrow cave. With every hurried step deeper into the bowels of the cliff, Bella’s calm eroded. If he wanted to hurt her, he could. If he wanted to torment her and then kill her, he could.

  It was almost impossible to comprehend that this was really happening. That this morning she’d woken up in her own neat cot in the women’s quarters of the Academy research shuttle, a junior researcher with moderate hopes for literally saving the world, and now she was about to be taken and god knows what else on a hard cave floor by a criminal with cold, dark eyes.

  She couldn’t get pregnant or catch some horrible disease thanks to the yearly shot required of all Council Academy scientific and military personnel, but such precautions couldn’t protect her from anything else.

  Her muscles twitched with the urge to resist, to take a surprise swing and flee before he understood what was happening, but such an act was beyond foolish. Mud man was too strong. Too powerful. Too dangerous. She’d likely be badly hurt if she tried to fight him.

  As if he knew her thoughts, mud man’s grip tightened and he pulled until she was pressed flat against his side.

  She muffled a gasp.

  He heard it anyway. Dark brows narrowed over midnight eyes as his gaze slipped to where his hand circled her wrist. His hold loosened.

  “It narrows ahead. Stay close or you’ll get cut.”

  Bella blinked stupidly. His voice was a dark, smoky rumble that rolled down her spine and, under different circumstances, would have sent her senses skittering. Now, it just confused her. Was he…was he truly trying to prevent her from getting hurt?

  Before she could think how to ask, he was moving forward again, her wrist still unquestionably encircled in his grasp, her body held tight against his as the cave walls narrowed and the path in front of them grew dark. So close his earthy, male scent invaded her lungs, far more appealing than she would have expected given the dirt covering every inch of him. So close the rough prickle of mud abraded her left arm where skin rather than shirt pressed against his side.

  Her shirt grew damp. The air hotter. Then, without warning, they turned a sharp corner, and halted.

  Her head snapped up, a sharp breath strangling in her throat at the shocking sight only a few feet ahead.

  Awe whispered through her.

  Beams of hazy sunlight from small cracks in the cave illuminated a vivid turquoise body of water. It glistened like a jewel while emerald colored plants with large, compound, fan-like leaves crowded along the banks. Palms. Actual thriving, gor
geous healthy palms. From the Arecaceae family, if she wasn’t mistaken, though they didn’t have the same unbranched stem as the one’s in her study guides. Delicate purple fruit sprouted from their split trunks. And the smell…she drew in a deep breath, her nose twitching at the strange, wonderful scent. Floral. Rich. Alive.

  Nothing like this had existed on Earth for centuries. But here…her heart leapt. Winthrop had been right. Maybe there was hope for Earth, after all.

  She skipped forward. Only to be brought up short by an unmovable leash around her wrist. Her gaze clashed with hungry, dark eyes.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  Her euphoria crashed and burned. For a brief instance, she’d forgotten.

  But with every second that mud man loomed above her, his dark eyes boring into her, watching, waiting, his jaw tight, his muscles rigid, the reality of what awaited built inside.

  “I won’t force you.” His words were a growl, but their meaning came through loud and clear nonetheless. He was again offering her a way out.

  Her breath shuddered in and out.

  She could turn back now. She could renege on the deal. It looked like he’d actually let her walk away. But without his help, she, Davies, and Winthrop would never make it until the search and rescue team arrived. No one would ever know what she’d found here today.

  Her gaze shifted to the fan-like plants. Now she had yet another reason to survive this, she told herself. This place. These plants. They could be the key to saving her sister and brother.

  As quick as the thought came, she shut out the memory of her sweet siblings’ faces. She didn’t want them connected in any way with what was about to happen.

  “My choice.” Awkwardly, she unsealed the top portion of her uniform, her shaking fingers making it difficult. Beside her, mud man had gone disturbingly still.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had sex just for the sake of sex before, she reminded herself. Long hours of studying and work and scraping by hadn’t allowed for anything more than the few quick, clumsy joinings with barrack mates to scratch an itch. Sure, she’d known them longer than five minutes and none had been criminals, but there’d been no emotional connection.

  Today was just more of the same. At least that’s what she tried to tell herself.

  When the seal reached its end at her bellybutton, she took a deep breath and let the dirt-covered uniform slide from her arms before pushing it off her hips in one fell swoop. It crumpled to the ground around her feet, leaving her in nothing but her white bra and panties. Her skin prickled at the exposure, her nipples crinkling into tight buds as the cooler air hit her body.

  A choked curse had her gaze flying to his.

  What she saw made her heart beat even faster. No longer cold, no longer empty, mud man’s dark stare glittered with raw hunger as it roamed her breasts and belly and thighs. The wonder was back, too. The dark blue rim she’d noticed before expanding so wide it nearly swallowed the black.

  Her arms instinctively moved to cover herself.

  “Take off the rest.” The rough command had her hands dropping back to her sides.

  With jerky movements, she kicked off her boots. Then, she unclasped her bra in one efficient move and let it drop to the ground before pushing her panties down her hips and stepping out of those as well. There. She’d done it.

  She forced herself to keep her arms by her sides. For survival. For survival. She chanted the words over and over to herself.

  Seconds ticked by. Nothing happened. The only sounds in the cave were the rhythmic drip of water and the erratic scrape of her breath sawing in and out.

  Her stare flickered to his.

  “Beautiful.” His single rasped word surprised her. So, too, did the intensity of his dark gaze.

  His hands fisted at his side. More seconds ticked by. Still, he made no move to grab her. Simply stared as if memorizing every inch. Unsure, she shifted on her bare feet, a flush of heat warming her cheeks and her chest. The wonder in his gaze making her throat go tight all over again as it had with their first touch.

  “Go into the water.” His voice was deeper than before.

  She started, confused. She’d expected him to be on her already.

  “You’ve got his blood all over you.” He sounded almost accusatory. “Go.”

  She wanted to ask why the hell it mattered, but his hands were already unwinding the cloth at his hips.

  Turning fast, she headed to the water, uncaring that the temperature was slightly cooler than expected, barely registering the unfamiliar oily sensation of the water clinging to her skin. Wading toward the deeper middle, she sunk beneath the surface to her shoulders, the transparent film giving her little protection, but somehow calming her just the same.

  A splash sounded. Powerful ripples washed against her back like a surging tide. He’d entered the water. He was coming for her.

  The coward in her wanted to stay where she was, eyes slammed shut. The officer in her knew she had to turn and face this head on.

  She whirled and discovered only small bubbles on the surface of the water. An inky cloud of red and brown streamed in all directions followed by foamy white. Then a dark head broke the surface and he was standing before her, waist high in the water, a mud man no more.

  Her mouth opened on a tiny o.

  Without the dirt, dark, thick hair shorn close to his scalp was now visible along with olive skin, a wide forehead, low brows, firm lips, and a square jaw. Tiny droplets left his long lashes spikey while rivulets of water tracked over chiseled cheekbones, down his sculpted chest and abdomen, to a small trail of dark hair that snaked from his belly button to disappear into the water. Scars of various length and width tracked across miles of pure, hard muscle.

  My God, mud man was a flesh and blood man—an incredibly masculine one. If she’d met him at the Academy or the barracks on Earth, she would have been unable to stop staring. He was that beautiful.

  Then his hand shot out and her daze shattered.

  With a hiss, she stumbled back a step.

  One dark eyebrow rose. “Here.”

  She looked down to see a small white bar in his hand.

  “It’s soap.” His tone was brusque. “The drones dump trash from Earth. Use it.”

  It was another long speech. This one seemed to come easier. Like his vocal chords were warming up. Like he was remembering how to actually talk to someone else. But beyond that, she had no idea what was going on here. Why he was taking the time to give her soap. Clean her up.

  She hated not being able to read him at all. She hated not knowing if the brief flashes of humanity she’d seen in his gaze were real or not.

  “Thank you.” It took all her courage to reach out and take the bar from his hand, the brush of her fingertips against his rough palm sending adrenaline surging through her. But when he remained still, when he allowed her to draw back her hand, soap clutched tight, her heartbeat slowed to something just below painful. “I—I’ve never used one before. The Academy only allows lasers for cleaning. The use of water was banned a long time ago.” She stopped short.

  Of course, he knew that. He wasn’t from some distant galaxy. He was from Earth. He just wasn’t welcome there anymore.

  His lips flat lined. “I’ve been here a while, but not as long as that.”

  Was that a joke? His expression offered no clue.

  “Of course.” Hands shaking, she took the soap and rubbed it against her arm. The blood stayed put. She rubbed harder.

  She hadn’t expected this…this talking. Or the kindness of a bath—with soap. It was confusing.

  “You need the water to make it work.” Rough hands reached out and took the soap, dunking it under the water, making that same foamy circle she’d seen before.

  “Turn around.” His voice had gone husky again.

  That overworked heart of hers started up double time once again. Her feet remained planted where they were.

  He waited for longer than she would have expected before
he spoke again, his jaw locked tight. “Anything?” It was a reminder. A reproach. A challenge.

  And her last chance to change her mind.

  Her eyes sunk shut. I can do this. I need to do this.

  She whirled around, bracing for a grab. A strike. But the deliberate slow glide of a calloused fingertip down the bumps of her spine slammed through her with more force than any blow.

  Chapter Four

  “Pull your hair to one side.” 673’s voice was gruffer than intended, but staying in control was taking all his effort. The creature he’d become roared at him to throw her down and ram inside. To take what was his. The Dragath25 way.

  And he could. He could do whatever he wanted with her. His strength gave him that right. Her defenselessness made her easy prey. There were no rules here on Dragath25. No honor. Only violence and might.

  But he didn’t throw her down. He didn’t ram inside. The feel of soft silk beneath his fingertip too good to rush. Hazy memories of the man he’d once been whispered that the smells and the sighs and the hot little mewling sounds of a woman on the edge were worth the wait.

  That even a bit of the man he’d been still existed confused him almost as much as it angered him. But all of that was secondary to the feel of her smooth skin as he dragged his fingertip down her spine.

  She’d stayed. He’d thought several times she wouldn’t. He’d braced himself for the reversal. Lectured the man he’d once been to damn well walk away before he became even more of a monster. But she’d surprised him. And he wasn’t about to lose the chance to experience something he’d never thought to feel again.

  He leaned forward, skimming his nose just above the smooth line of her shoulder. Holy hell. The scent of her…of woman. Of light. Of softness. The faint hint of vanilla still clinging to her skin.

  The soap cracked in his palm.

  It was a good reminder. Control was essential. Control was imperative or the fragile, trembling woman before him would turn to dust in his hands. Like everything else he’d ever had.

  He’d told her to turn around because the sight of her body—of all that creamy white skin, full lush breasts tipped by perfect pink nipples, hourglass curves, and bare, mouthwatering mound—had made going slow impossible. But even with her back to him he was in trouble. That ass….it called to him even now.